The Forgotten Portrait
by Hikaru-Ohayashi
Summary: A sequel for the ending in the title because I just can't get over it. It's been six years since the events of the museum though Eve (Ib) can't quite recall. However, she finds herself drawn to a single painting, routinely coming to the art gallery when she can to look at it and she can't help but think she knows this person though she couldn't understand why. Garry x Ib, obviously
1. A Tempest of Emotions

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 1: A Tempest of Emotions_**

There was something about that picture—something she just couldn't quite place. He _looked_ familiar. Those wavy purple locks with a darker shaded tuft set weirdly atop his head, his bands covering half his face. She couldn't quite remember where…or when. He looked so peaceful, sleeping in his bed of roses, no matter how much she thought it uncomfortable for how the thorns wrapped around him. And yet, she couldn't help but feel a strange melancholy of remorse and sadness from it, as if telling her there was something…something about it that just seemed so… so… desolate… so lonely… Or… was it that she felt as if she wanted to cry but couldn't do so regardless?

A beautiful young adult male, resting peacefully in a bed of thorned, vine-like roses… She couldn't help but feel that instead of resting, he was actually trapped.

Eve stood in front of '_The Forgotten Portrait_,' her crimson red eyes fixed onto the painting, mesmerized as always, coming here to see it for quite a while—an understatement to say the least, however… she just couldn't help but be drawn continually to the gallery to view this particular piece.

Now at the age of fifteen, six years since her ninth birthday, viewing the Guertana exhibit with her family, she still kept coming here… if not everyday, then when she has time—only, she made sure to make time. Regardless of school, homework, friends, and family. She didn't know why but she felt she should come. Come and see him. See if he was finally going to wake up and open those gentle blue eyes and return to keep his promi—what?

She blinked, feeling a strange wetness in her eyes threatening to pour, catching herself reaching out towards the portrait, and froze, wondering why she did so, more so… why there was something that had screamed in her head, telling her not to touch him—a brimming fear that he wasn't _just sleeping._ And she couldn't help but notice that she didn't want to believe that.

He was alive. Alive and well. Just resting so that he could catch up… But… catch up to what… or who?

Sadness… Overwhelming sadness engulfed her though on the outside, she remained perhaps seeming almost stoic and composed.

"Eve?" A voice called out hesitantly, making the said brunette turn to see one of her peers from school approaching. "Ah. So you were here. Don't you ever get tired of visiting sleeping beauty?" The other girl teased, black hair tied in pigtails tousling as she tipped her head to the side and gave the brunette a cheery grin. "Maybe he'll wake up if you kiss him~" The girl added as an afterthought, blinking eyes wide when she saw an uncharacteristic blush on the other girl's face, making her go silent. _Errr?_

"It's not like that. He's—" She stopped, realizing what she was about to say and paused that thought, looking back at the painting and how strange it had felt… She had considered the possibility though she wondered why she felt certain warmth spread across her as well.

"Eve has to get a real boyfriend soon~ It's time for her to realize pictures are just pictures~" The girl laughed, mostly trying to ease the weird tension though was surprised when the other girl suddenly blurted out, "He's real. He's not a fake. He's just—" Though even Eve had to stop, realizing she was being weird though now, she couldn't understand why but warm droplets of water trickled down her cheeks.

She retracted her hand from the other girl, backing away, not knowing why but she felt she had to do something other than stay here as she turned around to run, passing by several works of art, mannequins in different colored clothing, and a large painting called _'The Fabricated World.'_

It's real. _It's real._ _It's real!_ Something in her kept insisting and then the lights flickered on and off until everything went dark.

She stopped.

This was familiar…. She couldn't place why.


	2. The Melancholy of the Deep

_**The Forgotten Portrait:**_

_** Chapter 2: The Melancholy of the Deep**_

Silence. Creeping, eerie silence—as if there was not a soul in the entire museum, though that was actually to say that as of now, it was true—not that she knew quite yet at the moment.

Eve paused, blinking as she looked around, turning back to see if the other girl had followed, wanting to call out to verify though what met her eyes was the emptiness of the halls, save for the various paintings and sculptures, of course—and all basically supposedly non-living things. There was no one here. And all she could hear was her own breathing, and the soft scratching of the rubber of her shoes on the floor from the motion, however soft it was given the deafening silence that verified that she was suddenly alone.

A feel of dread soon slowly crept up her, hand fisted near her chest as she looked around, wondering why even with these strange events happening, there was a sense of nostalgia…or perhaps de ja vu would have been more accurate. Though, try as she might, there was nothing that had come to mind except that she instinctively turned to the large piece of art, finding blue paint trickling down and oozing from the ceiling, traveling down the wall, the said colors slowly forming a message as gravity pulled,

_Come, Eve._

_You shall find what you seek._

She blinked, approaching the wall and reaching out to examine it, her fingers resting on the liquid that was oddly warm and a strange but familiar viscosity and consistency that reminded her of something else that was a little more than just disturbing, for now pursing her lips, wondering whether she should even heed the message, despite the fact that logic was telling her that she wouldn't really like what was to come. Except, there was a nagging part of her that sought out the meaning of the message written in blue liquid—a desire for the answers that had forever plagued her heart.

Retrieving her hand from the wall, she backed up a few steps, turning back the direction she had supposedly been running away from, her body perhaps remembering what her mind could not, finding it rather puzzling that despite the fact that there had been no clarification as to where she must go, she had a feeling it was _here._ Down stairs… Past the lobby and reception and to…

The painting of the deep sea and its various alien-like fish creatures.

'_Abyss of the Deep.'_

Just beside it, leading to the painting itself, smeared blue shoe prints…

Despite her reservations about the idea of stepping on a priceless work of art, she was compelled to obey the message—not because she had no other choice…or well, in another light, perhaps she didn't, given if she wanted to know, she would have to do _something._ And, even if she didn't wish to find out what it was that called out to her, there was currently no way for her to turn back now, the whole gallery oddly devoid of life and it was perhaps strange that deep in her subconscious, already knew that the door at the lobby in the next room was not the way out—not that she desired to get out, strangely, but instead followed the insistent tug that was telling her to step inside.

Step in she did, soon surprised to find the painting sucked her in with a splash, making her close her eyes tight as cool wetness engulfed her, surrounding her as she sunk deeper into the ocean, the pressure building and building whilst she attempted to hold her breath for as long as she can, wondering if she should open her eyes to see though decided against it as she clutched her sides, arms crossed over her front, feeling a change in the direction of the water that surrounded her—as if something large had swum near her, panic rising inside while her breath was nearing its limit…

And then she dropped suddenly more quickly than she had sunk, water replaced by cold air, making her blink her crimson eyes open, finding she was suddenly back in the gallery, though obviously a different area…

Part of her wondered if what had happened was even real or if she was dreaming. She had a feeling that it wasn't, however much it was the logical thing to believe. And no, that was not because she still felt as if she was dripping wet and shivering from the odd trip, even though nothing in here indicated such a thing.

There was not even a single drop of water, nor were her clothes soaked. And, looking up to the ceiling did not reward her with the view of that ocean.


	3. The Requiem of the Blue Rose

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 3: The Requiem of the Blue Rose_**

_She loves me. She loves me not._

Vibrant blue petals fluttered towards the ground, softly settling onto the floor, swaying in a repetitive rhythm as they fell from the roses in which they were once attached onto, the said beautiful flowers in full bloom, wrapped around the golden frame of a familiar painting—'_The Forgotten Portrait__'_—thorned vines slowly unfurling, the said pictures seemingly coming to life save for the purple haired male that slept in its bed, though light breathing could be heard, chest rising and falling in a slow but rhythmic pattern, deep in slumber.

The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the silence, however much one could perhaps be convinced that it wasn't coming from anywhere.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

Petals continued their soft rain, filling the floor with brilliant beautiful blue, the young mans eyes tensing slightly though still closed, seeming disturbed though not really uncomfortable, perhaps more than anything becoming aware of a presence of another. A soft swoosh of long locks of hair… He couldn't help but feel a call to it, stirring him a bit more.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

This feeling… so familiar… so comforting… the sound of clothes swishing about. He opened his eyes—a beautiful sapphire blue—blinking a few times.

What was this?

He looked around, searching for the source of what had woken him though found none, making him purse his lips into a frown, his eyes turning towards where he lay rested and blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised a brow at the arrangement and after a moment, the said plants and greenery soon parting fully to give way, the frown soon replaced with an initially hesitant smile before he stepped out of the portrait, uneasily for a moment, easing out before straightening and brushing any dust from his clothing, his gaze trailing from side to opposite side, wondering what it was he heard.

It brought about a strange set of emotions that ranged from sadness and disappointment, fear, awe, happiness and… He blinked, one hand reaching to rest atop his chest. Huh? His heart hurt slightly, eyes softening upon a memory, however strange they may seem to be.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

The blue petals scattered about were a slight cause of concern, making him absently reach out for the rose in his pockets to check if it was fine, more out of a lingering habit than anything else, smiling with a hint of relief to see nothing was wrong though now his eyes trailed to the portrait he had come from, having a vague feeling about something although it was yet to be verified… so, as of the moment, he decided it was better that he should head out—head out to search. Though for who or what, he didn't know as of yet.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

He walked across the halls, gaze turning about from periphery to periphery, absently scanning the area, as if waiting for something—anything—that may suddenly come his way, passing by several sculptures and artworks, keeping his eyes on them, perhaps warily to a point until something else caught his attention… in the form of a medium sized painting of… _her._

_She loves me. She loves me not._

She looked more mature than last he'd seen her though not enough to be called an adult just yet, though she was getting there. Already, she had become quite a pretty sight. That he could admit safely to say the least. She'd grown taller, curves slightly more pronounced though artistic in subtlety in her own right, standing there with the same perhaps emotionless—no, that wasn't the right word—perhaps, composed manner as it seemed she was picking up a red rose, a light of a form of some understanding in her eyes though he also saw confusion laced in them whilst she read the inscription on the painting of an eerie woman.

"Eve…"

_She loves me. She loves m—…_

She came back.

He smiled gently, hand rested on the painting before it slipped back down to his side and then turned to walk off to find her, though perhaps one could ask why there was a rather strange note to that said smile…

* * *

A/N: Hope you all have been liking it for the most part. Reviews are appreciated. And I also realize that this fic's title is rather similar to at least one other from a different author. And, for that, I apologize. I'm just no good with giving titles for a story. Oh, and since I forgot to do so in the earlier chapters, standard disclaimer stuff. I own nothing except the idea (which was inspired by the game and a few other fics) and the other random characters that may pop in like the girl with Ib in the first chapter. It's not likely there be new characters in this story though. Maybe if I make a sequel for this story once I'm done, then there would be more OCs.


	4. The Red Rose's Plight

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 4: The Red Roses's Plight_**

This place was strange, perhaps needless to say even frightening in its own right, so many oddities happening in the span of less than a minute, more and more things becoming increasingly eerier as she ventured deeper into the twisting, turning hallways of the maze-like gallery, part of her wondering if this place was originally this large in the first place although, it was odd that despite the fact that indeed, the place gave her the chills, she didn't find it all too uncomfortable and was to a point in itself, even somewhat interesting. Though, it was more because she somehow knew her way around to a point, going as far as knowing what to do to be precise.

A single red rose rested in a vase on top of an end table, Eve having taken a hold of it, reaching out, that same sense of familiarity washing over her once again, wondering when everything would be all clear. There was a stinging pain inside her chest, dulling into a throb although uncomfortable all the same, making her ask why she felt something was missing—like a void that could not be filled by anything, more so pronounced right now in this current state of the gallery, silent, dark, and dreary… And although she had a feeling she wasn't really alone—in a more disturbing sense of the word, feeling as if there were eyes on her that gazed with intent of malevolence—it seemed as if she completely was… though, she blinked upon the feel of another kind of gaze, perhaps this time a little more kind though something was strange.

No one was here, Eve recalled. So, she turned her gaze, wondering where… _Where are you?_... _Who… are you?_ _When can I finally see you?_... It was odd that she expected the man in _'__The Forgotten Portrait_' to somehow here her heart's call, feeling she was nearing solving all the mysteries that surrounded him, and yet he was still so far away.

Unattainable. _An impossible dream._

She shook that off, concentrating on what was in here and around her as of the moment. Though, as she explored, what met her was a portrait of a dark haired woman when she started looking around, having opened one of the doors to inspect what was contained in the other side, the inscription near it reading,

_As the petals wilt, then so too will you wither away…_

Her crimson eyes widened briefly, seeing the said portrait move though it wasn't really new, having stumbled upon a few other examples prior. Plus, when you took a step into a painting of the ocean to find yourself sinking in, maybe to a point, you'd expect stranger things. What vaguely bothered her was how it's expression changed though, and to a point, it's form as well. And, consequently, she stepped a few feet back before turning to exit the room, picking up the key she found shining a faint light right by her feet's side, as if truly beckoning her to take it, a vague feeling that everything truly starts here.

Breathing out, she clasped her fingers tightly around it, a determined look in her face although it was, to her, very much strange given she seemed to have a goal, however unclear that was other than the general 'searching for answers.'

…Answers she'd find somewhere in here.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. It's much appreciated. Oh and to anyone of you who saw this before the edit, I feel so silly, confusing myself with the title when i was already correct. They were all corrected and edited back accordingly and hopefully, the changes are updated soon


	5. A Torrent of Hues and Saturations

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

_** Chapter 5: A Torrent of Hues and Saturations**_

Red was for action, confidence and passion—also symbolic of true love in the language of flowers. Blue was for trust and peace, loyalty and integrity—also stood for an impossible miracle. Green was for life and nature, also symbolic of envy. Yellow was for friendship and intense emotion, or sadly, extreme betrayal. Perhaps… She could wonder why she felt a certain fleeting melancholy and nostalgia, the overload of colors in her eyes though for now, she knew enough to try to ignore it, having something far more important than paying attention to the emotions evoked by the colors.

Portraits of ladies in different colors… So many similarities yet obvious differences—as obvious as the difference in hues and saturations of their dresses. Beautiful. Charming. Graceful. And yet hiding a frightening monstrosity within that seemingly rooted in…desire? She didn't really know although she knew enough to say for certain that it was not at all good intention.

_They_ were after her. _Everything_ in _here_ was after her.

Colored room through colored room, Eve explored, running from various strange and perhaps eerie things, meeting obstacle upon obstacle—not just in the form of various artworks coming to life...though, it was to note that not all really sought to hinder and there were occasions in which they helped her out, if only through doing some of them a few favors, giving them items for some sense of their on trouble's closure—knowing she was in search of _something_, no, _someone_. And that, she had a feeling that if she didn't succeed then she would lose something that to her was very important.

In another light though, if she failed, her life would more likely than not be forfeit in retrospect.

Everything in here gave her a sense of de ja vu, though it wasn't just the odd familiarity that was bothering her, perhaps to a point preventing her from concentrating enough; the various brief and blurry images that do manage to rise into her consciousness hinted that there was supposed to be _someone_ here with her, running with her though slow enough so that she could keep up to his large strides as they figured things out in this queer and creepy gallery. And, she couldn't help but think it should be _him —_the man in the portrait of _'__The Forgotten Portrait_,' though maybe she couldn't help but think that the title was a little strange…

Nonetheless, the thoughts were very much confusing, however much in the end, she just chose to accept the feeling. Though… seeing those paintings come to life and the sculptures having done the same in that manner, all with an intent to harm as they had no sooner made it obvious, the moment they started to move… She couldn't help but think…

He was… he was a painting too.

Would _he_ _do_ the same? Would _he_ _want_ the same? Would _he_ _be_ the same way towards her?... And, if so… why?

The various colors and the emotions they evoked returned to her consciousness and for some reason, that combined with the thoughts prior shot a burning pain through her heart… Hurting…_Hurting…_ So painful. Constricting. Suffocating.

In the end, would she still be alone in here?

Eve ran into one of the rooms, quickly turning to shut the door and locking it, breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath, hands set a bit above her knees as she bent down slightly, panting slowing as the knocking continued to grow louder and louder, letting her know she had to find another way out since.. _They_ were there, waiting for her to come out, eager to break the flimsy wood that was the only thing between them. Though, looking around the dimly lit room, she found that she was at a dead end, the room instead filled with bookshelves filled with various literary pieces, a window…which didn't seem to want to open when she went to check it… and… two paintings, one a blank sheet of white while the other seemed familiar, laced with hundreds of blue roses, petals strewn onto the ground, though… the subject of the piece was missing.

She blinked, despite the urgency of the situation, found herself being drawn towards it, the insistent knocking now the last thing on her mind.


	6. A Shower of Blue Petals

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 6: A Shower of Blue Petals_**

Blue roses trained, dotting the vines coiled around the golden frame of the portrait, the said thorns encasing the frame, and inside, the familiar bed of beautiful, pristine sapphire blue. And though the painting remained captivating in itself, she couldn't help but think that something was wrong, more so because the subject of the whole piece was not there, making the whole thing seem devoid of that feel of a pull—a connection towards it—in a sense that the unfamiliarity of a supposedly comforting piece in its own right was making her feel quite distressed.

_He_ wasn't here. _Where_ is _he?_ _Why_ isn't he in _there?_

Eve found herself extending her hand outward, fingers running on the bed of blue roses, feeling a wave of disappointment rise slowly within her as her hands ran across the painting whose contents seemed to have come to life. The petals felt so soft, almost velvety. And the lovely scent permeated the atmosphere. Even breathing in and out… then blinking upon the realization… What if he…? But those ladies in different colored dresses all were painted up to their wastes at most—like he was. So… It didn't seem to add up that he would be able to come alive in that manner…

Speaking of those portraits though…

She snapped back to the present, realizing where she was and her current predicament, her gaze turning, looking for a way out once again—perhaps a crevice hidden by the book cases though there was none, the knocking getting more and more insistent, louder and louder as she quickly tried to find a way to run, part of her having a feeling she was supposed to wait for them to break the wall although… that was definitely disturbing and it also was another familiar image to think of, though the said thought also made her feel as if _he_ should have been here, frantically looking for a way out with her.

But he wasn't. And it was odd how it made her feel perhaps a little frightened, despite the lack of outward expression and despite the fact that the truth was, she came here alone. And right now, she couldn't help but feel as if her goals were ever blurrier and unclear, and that her actions were all for naught, the wood of the door creaking, sounding like it was being chopped—or more accurately chipped off to cracks little by little—and the walls breaking into finer, smaller concrete, boring a hole into it as the various statues and portraits slowly closed in.

Only, the situation was soon increasingly becoming realized, the longer she took, except, there wasn't any way for her to escape this.

Her head turned towards the window near one of the cases, heaving herself up on top of it as she peered through, checking where it lead to, to see another hallway—what more, it looked safe. And how ironic that her safe haven were to be so near, in touching distance, like the painting and _that man_ and yet, at the same time, so unattainable, locked from the other side… And, only someone from that side could open the way for her…

Irony. It was funny in a certain light...

And, it was also a heartless bitch.

The wall soon caved in, the ladies in blue, red, green, and yellow streaming inside whilst Eve rose, standing atop the shelf, backed into the clear glass that separated her and safety while they neared, eyes widening in surprise when the roses in the painting of the Forgotten Portrait suddenly came to life, the thorned vines moving in high speed, impaling a few of the portraits before crisscrossing the room, becoming a protective barrier between her and the danger, blue petals fluttering and flowing about in a beautiful rain of blue flowers, swaying to rest in small groups upon a pool of red fluid that oddly resembled something else she probably rather would not think of if she actually had the time.

While that had went on, her hands shooting up to somewhat block her view of the sudden motion and gruesome scene in its own right, the window behind her clicked and two strong, caring, protective arms wrapped quickly but gently around her, her vision of everything blurring as she was pulled out of the room in a rush of wind, the thorns now covering the area where she once was, blocking the exit into the hallway in which she… and another individual sat, the said person softly saying "Ooof!" as they had landed on the ground before sitting up, Eve turning to look at the owner, blinking, feeling a wave of warmth rise within her.

"A-ah…" He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, eyes closed, expression seeming like a bit of a wince as he said, "That would have been too close for comfort," pertaining to the previously rather sticky situation.

She stared at him, eyes perhaps wide, wetness streaming down her cheeks in silence, droplets trickling to the ground like the soft rain of blue petals, as she brought her hand to her face, wondering where they had suddenly come from and why it was she felt so... so light—as if the weight that she didn't even know was holding her down previously suddenly had dispersed into nothingness.


	7. The Paradox of Searching

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 7: The Paradox of Searching_**

Irony was a funny thing. It had ways of making and breaking your day. And, perhaps for this instance, she could say safely that it had done both in the span of an entire moment. There was the irony of being trapped from the other side with no way to go, release within reach and yet out of it at the same time, only to have the path paved and opened for her, more so when she was ready to believe that all hope was lost. Then, there was going around in circles, searching and searching for something she wasn't really even sure was here… and then having the said object of her aspirations so easily find his way to her.

It was torturing… and at the same time relieving. Consequently, tears could not help but fall.

"Eh? Ah! Did I do something wrong?" The purple haired man said, his expression contorting to one of panic, perhaps to a point, near wanting to flail his arms about, wondering what to do to calm the crying girl in his arms though she wasn't really exactly sobbing rather than the fact that tears just happened to make its way down her plump, reddened cheeks. "I guess it was just that scary, huh, Eve? You don't have to worry about anything now. They won't be able to follow us here." He continued after a moment, his gaze turning softer and gentler as he reached out to pat her head, ruffling her hair.

She blinked. _Eh?_ "How do you know my name?" She asked after a while whilst she wiped the tears from her eyes, making the man blink, eyes widening with some sort of realization before he laughed and waved it off perhaps a little awkwardly then replied, "Let's just say we've known each other for a time. There's no need to bother about that right now." He voiced out, scooting away from her to stand up and brush any dust that had gotten onto his clothes, though not before extending a hand out towards her to offer assistance, Eve taking it after staring for a few seconds, perhaps only heightening the awkwardness in the air though now, she couldn't help but feel bad.

He _knew_ her. But she couldn't say the same for herself to say the least. And, she couldn't help but feel a little inconsiderate, perhaps, though try as she might, there was something that prevented her from recalling what it was.

It was right there, cruelly eluding her grasp.

"Your name."

"Huh?" The man said, turning back towards her in confusion, having been looking around the hallway, deciding which way to go.

"I don't know it." She answered quietly, perhaps slightly ashamed.

"Oh." He replied, the realization coming in, his eyes shifting away in an odd moment of hesitation before turning his gaze back towards her, smiling warmly at her, bringing a hand to his chest to refer to himself as he went to answer her, "Garry."

_Garry._

She gazed at him for a short moment, the name sounding so familiar, and perhaps strangely foreign at the same time. She couldn't help but feel as if that even now when she finally managed to see him, to find him alive and well, finally awake after a long slumber, there were still too many things missing, so many things that didn't seem to quite fit. And more importantly, despite the fact that she had now found him, there were only more and more questions that popped up yet there were still no answers to the initial queries.

Scritching and scratching soon alerted her to the fact that they had to move, her crimson eyes turning towards the window barricaded by thorns now moving faintly, twitching as Garry let out a somewhat inaudible, 'Ch,' before grabbing her wrist, not roughly, but urgently all the same, "Looks like even that won't hold. We have to go." He voiced out, tugging her along to the right across the halls.


	8. Repetition Rhythm

_**The Forgotten Portrait:**_

_** Chapter 8: Repetition Rhythm**_

It had roughly been hours of running around the maze like gallery, entering various rooms, taking staircase upon staircase whilst evading the various inhabitants of the gallery, searching desperately for a way out. It was exhausting, and perhaps even psychologically tasking. And he could not help but notice it was starting to take its toll on her—more accurately perhaps, the both of them—moving him to slow down to a brisk walk once he was sure that there were no more creepy painting ladies and headless statues that were running after them as he searched for a safe place so that they could both take a rest.

Eve noticed, her gaze turning up towards him and blinking as she said, "Sorry," though he only turned his eyes towards her, gazing from the periphery of his vision before smiling in an assuring manner, replying with an "It's fine. I need to take a break too, see?" He said, gesturing to himself, perhaps more hinting that she was actually doing even better than he, given the fact that on more than one occasion, he had in fact been the one to hold on to her for comfort when something came at them or surprised them.

"What if… What if there's no way out?" She murmured, her gaze turned downwards, perhaps a little downcast in her own right. They had been searching for a while after all, though there still seemed to be little progress—on both searching for an exit and why she had felt a pull towards… _him_… Though, something was strange, however much she couldn't really grasp it. She couldn't understand. And in the end, meeting him only served to bring a tidal wave of confusion that didn't seem like it was going to be answered anytime soon.

"Don't say that." Garry replied, perhaps to a point comforting her, feeling protective of the younger girl in his current care, certain memories flowing in him as he smiled softly. "We'll find a way out, I'm certain of it." He continued with a cheerful quirk in his tone, perhaps showing strength for her before blinking, a thought coming to mind.

"Say, do you know that small café near this gallery?" Garry began, Eve's gaze going towards him before quietly nodding, a sense of de ja vu once again hitting her, only serving to bring more confusion. "They have the best macaroons there. When we get out, I promise to t—" The mans words, his voiced, seemed to fade out, Eve blinking as she gazed at him, perplexed for a moment until…

'_He loves me. He loves me not.' A small girl's voice echoed through the hallways of the poorly drawn gallery, blue petals scattered about._

_NO!_ Something rang in her head, giving her a sudden onslaught of pain, making her clutch her head, Garry pausing in his speaking, casting her a worried glance. "Eve?" he called, the girl backing away slightly, perhaps in her own plea for help. "Eve!" Garry rushed towards her before she managed to fall to the floor, catching her deftly in his arms, sapphire blue eyes briefly narrowing before he lifted her up gingerly, carrying her toward one of the rooms, peeking in to see if it could be used to allow her to sleep for a while, opening and closing door upon door until he found one that was satisfactory, the room containing a couch, coincidentally, laying her gently down on it and then taking off his tattered coat, placing it on top of her to give her a bit of warmth before taking a seat near her, watching her perhaps a little worriedly, waiting on her.


	9. De Ja Vu

_**The Forgotten Portrait:**_

_** Chapter 9: De Ja Vu**_

Eve awoke after an hour or two, rising and clutching her head, wondering where that monumental headache had come from and why it struck, her soon seemingly hearing the giggling of a little girl at the back of her mind before another migraine suddenly was making itself known and now it was perhaps apparent that if she tried to recall, it would hurt…meaning that it would probably do her no good, however curious she was. After all, she couldn't help but think it was trying to say something—to tell her a message pertaining to a time perhaps long forgotten in order to remind her of whatever she felt was missing.

Her gaze fell to the floor, seeing blue rose petals, the flowers themselves as well as the thorned vines curiously strewn on part of the flooring beside the couch, tilting her head curiously to the side before directing them towards the familiar voice that addressed her. "Ah. Finally. I was getting worried for you there for a minute." Garry voiced out, his tone pretty much relieved as he approached, reaching out and affectionately patting her atop her head, before giving in to pulling her into a hug, "That scared me."

"Sorry." Eve mumbled, her focus still on the flowers though, the plants oddly growing into the doorframes, making a rather pretty makeshift rose orchard, Garry soon noticing the cause of Eve's relative silence and blinked, turning a questioning gaze towards her that she perhaps only mimicked back, the older of the two falling silent for a moment, perhaps thinking of how to explain, wondering if she was worried about it to a point—the flowers.

His gaze turned towards the roses, gesturing to them as he slowly stood and approached, explaining, "They started growing a while back but so far, that was all they did." He said, tipping his head to the side, one hand in his pocket while the other rested fingers onto his chin, looking in thought as he examined it.

"Anyway, Eve." Garry said, turning onto a different note that was perhaps more cheerful and hopeful, shrugging the roses off, Eve tuning her attention fully towards him, "I've got a feeling we're getting closer and closer to the exit, so chin up and don't stress yourself, 'kay?" He continued, though perhaps she could ask how he knew although, he did say it was just a feeling, however, she herself couldn't help but be a little hopeful though perhaps there was also a slight disappointment that was pointing to the fact that it seemed they were closer to freedom, yet she was no where near achieving any form of closure to this curiosity of a nagging feeling that was telling her she was forgetting something very important. Though… she also thought that more answers would come, the sooner they get out, except… there was that same insistent tug that told her she would miss her chance, however odd that was.

Garry's hand extended out towards her with a warm smile, asking her if she was ready to set off though hinted that if she still wished to rest, they could stay here a bit more, the area proving to be pretty safe to say the least.

She'd already learned to accept that feeling that this has happened before—or at least something closely similar to it. Though, that didn't prevent the wave of remorse she did usually feel when she gazed at _his painting_ prior to all this. There was a small part of her whispering, perhaps making itself known as she recalled Garry's words about a café earlier.

_You promised that before._ Wait, what? She blinked, getting dragged along for a moment, earning the concern of the man beside her.

"You okay, Eve?" He asked, turning towards her to check on her, pursing his lips and considering going back there to that room to let her rest a bit more.


	10. Lost in the Labyrinth

_**The Forgotten Portrait:**_

_** Chapter 10: Lost in the Labyrinth**_

It was strange to feel as if he wasn't supposed to really lead the way, though normally, it really should be the case that he did. After all, he was older, more capable of making decisions as most would perhaps think. However to her, it felt as if they should be deciding things together, and perhaps to a point, it made her feel left out, although there really wasn't much of a basis for anything. Though, there was part of her that was understood why she was drawn to him and why she would come to the gallery every time, enough that she could feel so lonely despite the fact that she was in his company.

_He was a painting_. How could he ever get out of here? In fact, the reminder only served to bring back to light her earlier worries though this time, for the most part, it was more for curiosity than doubt.

_He was a painting._ So why was he in possession of a rose like herself and unlike all the others? Why was it that he was helping her? Though honestly, she felt relieved, not wanting to question his good will. Except, the thought raised a few more things that had caused her head to ache slightly, the voice of a small girl in her subconscious, calling out in an excited and playful, friendly manner, asking her about random things whilst talking about…

The pain got worse, making her turn to other things as they explored the area, walking and walking.

Red, Green, Yellow, Blue, Grey. Rinse, repeat. The pattern of colors on the various floors and rooms, and she could not help but think they were still going in circles, though she was certain they haven't even made the move of turning back to the other direction, further heightening the though of the gallery playing tricks on the both of them. Though, she did note that it seemed less and less often did they encounter those sculptures and paintings that were chasing them.

Part of her wondered what to make of it. A good omen? Or something indicating something dreadful?

Eve leant on the wall as they rested for a few minutes in this blue themed hallway, forked down the path, leading to a choice between two doors, her gaze turning to Garry who, after making sure she was not too tired, began examining the paintings strewn across the walls, perhaps hoping for a bit of a hint whilst she too gazed at a few paintings, straightening and looking at it, peering into something that seemed like a painting of a mirror, the title reading something that was perhaps safe to say, odd to her, '_Reflection_.'

She blinked, gazing into her own face, her reflection on the piece, though something about it seemed more glum and perhaps even depressing, her eyes turning to the description, '_Within us are sides of ourselves we do not wish to present to others._'

_Ah. Was she…?_ She pursed her lips, shaking the thought off and stepping away from it before running over to the purple haired man in her company, her hand perhaps instinctively slipping comfortably in his as he turned and smiled at her, soon motioning to the painting there that indicated two roads, the right perilous while the left, all sunshine and rainbows. "I guess that means we take left, huh?" He said as he smiled, Eve nodding before something caught her eye, her immediately pushing Garry to the side, him stumbling back to the left while she fell to the right, another odd sense of de ja vu, though for now chose to stare at the thing that had come at them, a painting having briefly come alive, titled 'Within Reach,' serving to confuse her to say the least.

"Eve!" Garry called, leaning, kneeling before knocking on the barrier that separated him and her, looking through the spaces to see if she was fine, though he did ask all the same. "Are you alright?" to which she nodded, standing up and walking towards him, trying to see if it could be moved, perhaps to no avail. "Wait here, alright?" The male said, reaching out to pat her head soothingly, as he gestured to the room, "I'll find something to break this." He added before he stood up and went for the other door.

Eve could not help but want to reach out and tell him not to go.


	11. On a Bed of Blue Roses

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Chapter 11: On a Bed of Blue Roses_**

Something in their current predicament told her that if she did not stay with him, they would be separated for eternity. And, she could just as well tell that she, for one, did not want it, even though she knew he was a painting, someone not from the outside world where she lived in except… she couldn't also help but think as if there was something more to it than that. Or was it that she just wanted to believe _they_ had a chance?

_How funny._ She suddenly thought bitterly, a hint of spite on the note. Never mind the fact that he was supposedly only alive in this world. Never mind the absurdity of the fact that it had become more and more obvious that she was attached to him in a way that could have perhaps been laughed at by others—her recalling the incident that she could say had led to this all… In love with a painting. But… another problem was… He treated her like a child. Something to protect. Something not to be taken too seriously when voicing things out with regards to feelings in that sense—at an arms length distance perhaps, more accurately.

Within her reach. So close. And yet so far at the same time. How many times must that be emphasized as of now?

She sighed inaudibly, her eyes, looking slightly forlorn, gazing towards the painting that separated the two of them, maybe to a point glaring, wishing it to literally and metaphorically disappear, all the things that hindered them from walking the same path so that she would not lose him agai—

She blinked, about to try to recall why it seemed most her thoughts hinted at nostalgia though the sounds of crashing in the room Garry had come in to explore, made her eyes widen with surprise, soon desperately trying to find a way to physically pry it apart though unfortunately, perhaps it was obvious that she couldn't. "Garry!" She called desperately, a few strange and unsettling images of him laying down near the wall, eyes closed, blue petals strewn on the ground as the voice of a small girl was happily saying in an almost sing-songy manner, _'He loves me. He loves me not,'_ the sound of petals being plucked.

_No, no, no!_ That wasn't happening. That wasn't going to happen. She won't let it! Not this ti—

She stood up, resolving herself as she rushed into the door of the other room despite the fact that she promised to stay here. Because… well, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did nothing. And, with that in mind, she opened the door, entering the room and searching amongst the boxes for something she could use, the whole situation triggering those images more and more, the longer she took.

Nothing. There was nothing. And perhaps, to a point, she could only despair, standing up as the lights flickered on and off, Eve rushing to the door to find it was oddly locked, more images coming to he mind, triggering an onslaught of another headache.

_Blonde girl. Blue eyes. 'Come on Eve. Look's like we have no choice but to find another way out.'_

She, unfortunately, didn't want to part, though perhaps knew that in order to see him again, she would have to go another route.

Eve looked around for another exit, finding two paths, one leading to the left, clear like what had been indicated in the painting, making her blink. Wasn't it pertaining to the forked road before this? It was odd it seemed to denote the fact that if she wished, she could turn back to the safe road… towards Garry's direction. However, the right held a certain pull as well for how it was presented.

Old thorned vines, seeming like it's been withered for a time… and… crisp petals, losing their blue hue, turning to brown, unlike the flowers she'd seen along the ways once she met Garry, a rising curiosity within her, making her walk slowly, perhaps hesitantly towards it, despite the fact that something screamed at her, telling her she wouldn't really want to see this.

The path was dark and gloomy. And needless to say, it seemed figuratively and literally sketchy, the wallpapers hinting at crayon colors as she walked inside quietly, a few moments passing until she finally happened across a painting, though what filled her with a feeling of coldness, sending shivers down her spine was the fact that it too was labeled, _'The Forgotten Portrait.'_ And, aside from that, just beneath the portrait, lay a purple haired man, looking as if he were sleeping although the wilted roses and the vines that entangled him seemed to indicate that he'd been here for a rather long while.

He even wore the same clothes, though the dust seemed to have settled slightly on them, and beside him, a withered stem of a plucked rose, the sight being followed by several more images, soon making her piece the puzzle together, understanding shining in her crimson eyes though part of her refused to believe it, tears streaming down her cheeks.

_The blonde girl—Mary—suddenly acting weirdly after a while, Garry coming to her rescue and running from the person they thought was their friend._

_A weird sketchbook world next. Then, falling into a toy box and losing her rose only to find it with the blonde…_

_Garry trading in his rose for hers and then…_

'_He loves me. He loves me not.' The girl's voce echoed as they climbed up the stairs after her_

'_I don't want to lie… But I don't want to tell the truth either. You go on ahead. I'll just… rest here for a bit.'_

'_If you need me, I'll come running.'_

There were muffled sounds of crashes from the left, louder, coming nearer before silence came soon after, making her look back, eyes wide, wondering just what in the world it all meant. The sound of the door that was previously locked softly clicked then creaked open, followed by rhythmically slow foot steps that seemed a little more dreadful as opposed to comforting at this point for how confused she was at the current situation. _Why?_ What was happening?

The purple haired male soon came into view, one hand in his coat pocket, the other gingerly holding a vibrant blue rose as he called out, "Eve? I asked you to stay, didn't I? I was so worried." He said in the same tone that was perhaps warm and comforting, however much it didn't seem to have effect now, only heightened by the fact that a bit of red paint that hinted something else was smeared on part of his clothing as well though he didn't seem injured at all as of the moment.

"Ah." He said softly soon after, eyes trailing to the man laying beside the portrait on the wall. "So you remember now?" He asked, though perhaps rhetorically at this point, smiling though there was a sad note in his eyes, closed briefly in that smile though as they opened, it was replaced rather cold, darkened gaze before he smiled cheerfully, however much it seemed rather sadistic right now.

"That's quite… unfortunate…" He continued as he did, lifting the blue rose to his lips, "We both could have happily lived in this sweet fantasy ❤"

* * *

A/N: I probably won't be able to update chapters for the rest of the day. I hope these set of chapters and this last longer one makes up for it, though it left at a cliffhanger, though I thought it appropriate. I sort of wonder if this twist was predictable...or if I appropriately gave context clues and at the same time made it vague enough to be a bit surprising, though I think the last bit in the previous chapter was pushing it to the obvious. Tell me your opinions?... And how to improve on my writing... I can't help but feel that compared to many other writers, I type up very short chapters.


	12. The Gallery's Decree

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_Chapter 12: The Gallery's Decree_**

_A lie_. Was that what it all was, really? She didn't exactly know what to think, tears falling down involuntarily though she let out no sobs, her grief perhaps silent if one could even be convinced it was present for the fact that aside from the small amounts of water making its way, trickling down, her expression was fairly neutral if not a little pained perhaps… or maybe there should have been a more accurate word to describe however much it escaped her as of the moment.

Garry sat on the floor beside her, still, unmoving… whilst his replica or whatever she should call him had been the one with her all the time she was here. Though, now… she could only ask why… why it was that if he actually was one of _'them,'_ why did he protect her from harm? Or in the end, was he just really pretending to be the other man trapped in a mesh of thorns for a reason unbeknownst to her. But… "Why?" _Whatever for?_

It didn't make sense.

'Garry' smiled, something slightly mischievous perhaps though it had an edge of malice, the man answering her after taking a small whiff of the blue rose, "You remember Mary, don't you, Eve? And what she had to do to get out of _'The Fabricated World.'_ Though unfortunate on her end that you should do that to her… precisely why everyone here is after you." He replied, explaining, Eve shifting her gaze away at the mention of the blonde girl, perhaps to a point guilty about it, making him smirk slightly. Thoughtful little girl… Though to save her from a wrong conclusion of his motives, it seeming as if he sought vengeance for a girl who never knew though perhaps owed a part of his existence to, he began to speak again, "Exchange of existence. One leaves… the other stays…" he continued, trailing off with a wistful, slightly sadistic gaze as he smiled in that same hollow manner.

Eve's eyes first widened, having thought he wanted to avenge the blonde girl though was suddenly brought to the topic of the gallery's rules, apparently. Exchange of existence… He wanted out of the gallery in exchange for herself? But… then why protect her? Why then did he say that—that she could have lived in a sweet illusion?... Did he mean being trapped forever in the gallery without being able to do anything about the real Garry? It seemed though that he understood her silence, _him_, the copy of the purple haired man that sat still and quiet beside the true _'Forgotten Portrait'_—bittersweet irony, in context—speaking once again now clarifying the idea more.

"We leave together in exchange for _him_. Isn't it reasonable? After all… there's nothing _you_ can do to help him. What's so bad about it? I look exactly like him and you weren't really able to tell the difference ❤" He added for a good measure with a somewhat calculating smirk.

_Wrong_. She had felt something was strange. Although… it was never enough for her to pay heed to it much. In her subconscious, she probably wanted to believe that he was completely fine—she understood that now, therefore remaining oblivious to a point, ignoring the signs… The painting... the strange actions and pauses in speech… The blue roses that behaved strangely…

"What do you say?" He asked, one hand out stretched for her to take if she conceded to the deal.

Eve shook her head, wiping her tears away as she set a determined gaze on him, "I'm not leaving Garry here." She said firmly, her gaze a near glare though it was more… reproachful? No, no. That was not it, but perhaps it was enough to get the man she was addressing displease, his hand first still outstretched before he realized she really wouldn't take it, frowning appropriately, brows knit before his lips parted, uttering a command which even the most powerful of all individuals could not help but be compelled to obey out of a sense of fear. "_Come. Here. Eve._" He said each word, emphasized through gritted teeth.

She stood her ground.

"So be it."

His feet slipped apart slightly, his gaze cold and murderous, the floor cracking open suddenly, the rifts heading right towards her and spreading to the walls, thorned vines coming from them, laced with blue roses, all heading straight for one fifteen year old girl.

* * *

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Life caught up with me just before Christmas break. I'm working on the last stretch of chapters at the moment. Enjoy this one for now, everyone. Even though it's pretty short and leaves off at another cliffhanger...


	13. Bitter Reality

_**The Forgotten Portrait:**_

_** Chapter 13: Bitter Reality**_

She didn't move… despite the fact that he clearly was hostile, instead looking straight at him as the branches spread out at a terrifying speed straight towards her, a part of him wondering if she knew exactly what he was doing or that she simply was frozen there, not knowing how she was to react, though her gaze said otherwise. And, to a point, he couldn't quite fathom what was on her mind or perhaps more accurately, didn't want to accept it however… displeased as he was, eyes closed, respecting her choice, the attack halted into a complete stop before it managed to impale her, Eve blinking, wondering what was going on, part of her having prepared for the consequences.

"Why?" She heard him voice out, everything about the area now calm though traces of the particular 'storm' that had hit was very much there, the purple haired male holding the blue rose in between his fingers, gripping it tightly enough to bleed, droplets of deep crimson red, trickling down on the floor, Eve staring for a moment, having the same question, though different subject, in her mind however… did not voice it out

The copy's gaze turned towards the real one's form, lips pursed, very much upset as he approached it, the brunette instinctively standing between them, maybe a little scared for the one she was currently attempting to protect with those small hands of hers, though this time, she perhaps misread his intentions… not that he had been very clear about them as of late…or ever.

His hand stretched out to rest on top of Eve's head, the girl first closing her eyes though was surprised and maybe slightly confused as to why there was a gentle note about it before hearing him say, "So be it. Look's like you win again, Garry." He muttered, a sad, spiteful smile directed at the original, Eve wondering what he had meant though saw him taking the wilted stem of the plucked blue rose beside the real one, placing his rose in the male's palm and closing the other's fingers on it, surprised when he felt a small warmth by his wrist, blue eyes turning up to meet a worried and confused crimson gaze, making him blink before smiling a little bit more light heartedly.

What was this? Did she actually understand what he was doing?

Exchange did apply for other things…

_Smart girl but…_ "You don't need to worry about me. Look a you, worrying for someone who just threatened to kill you~" He said, teasing slightly, patting her head as he straightened and stepped away, with a soft smile. _It's enough._ He thought. _I did have my fun._

Eve stood there, stepping towards him, part of her comprehending what he had done although as she looked towards Garry and to his doppleganger, she couldn't help but feel the remorse wave and emanate throughout her consciousness, in the back of her mind, asking why it seemed to be the only way. It couldn't be the only way. Because… it was sad… it was just plain sad.

She had no sooner realized when he stopped his assault that he, in the end, did not wish to harm her, however confused she was for a while though she wasn't sure he would have been the same towards Garry, hence why she stepped up though now, it was just… upsetting as she gazed at him, her eyes normally blank of emotion hinted something that bordered on desperation as she stepped closer towards the replica—no, 'Garry'—though as she reached out to take his hand, his form was soon dispersing with a slight wind, fading away into blue rose petals, that drifted slowly to a stop on the ground as she heard a similar voice from behind her.

"Eve?" The voice came, unsure for a while in its wake.


	14. King of the Blue Labyrinth

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

_**Chapter 14: King of the Blue Labyrinth**_

Eve turned upon the sound of Garry's voice, bending down and surprising the man with a firm embrace, the male's eyes widening when she did, perhaps feeling a little awkward although very much reasonable, given the fact that he felt he'd awoken from such a long slumber…except, taking in the girl's form, he could somewhat surmise he must have really done so… All he could actually recall were the events prior to his closing his eyes—exchanging his rose for Eve's, hiding from her the truth of his fears and how much he would have wanted to leave with her and keep his promises, how much he actually had been afraid of being left alone.

He had no clue of what happened after, though for the most part, the girl was alright…and… all grown up… he flushed slightly at a stray thought that came to mind, immediately willing it away as he turned his attention to Eve who seemed to be so desperately hold on to him, a wave of sadness and perhaps happiness emanating from her whilst he raised a hand, setting it onto the back of her head, moving in an up and down motion as he tried to soothe her, "I'm alright now, see?" He said, wondering what was bothering her so much.

After a moment though, she pulled away, closing her eyes tight and shaking her head to perhaps shake off the feeling, maybe to a point, not wanting him to worry and perhaps realizing that in the end, they still had to get out.

Her eyes turned towards the trail of blue petals though, softening slightly as she quietly muttered a fervent "Thank you…" Garry raising a brow, eyes turning towards the trail of petals Eve was looking at and blinked, momentarily panicking, though realized soon it wasn't anything to worry about when he looked at the rose in his hand although… there was something about it that felt familiar but at the same time foreign, leading him to believe it was not entirely his own—if at all at that point.

He stood up, offering his hand to the girl, Eve taking it after she had bent down to gather a few of the petals placing a few gingerly in her pockets before they set off to look for the exit, Eve remembering just what to look for and perhaps making it simple enough in retrospect, although they had run into a few more of the dolls and the mannequins and paintings, as if still imploring them to stay, though for the most part, it was surprising—at least to Garry—that when they were put in a tight spot, there seemed to be thorned vines, occasionally laced with blue roses, his rose seemingly glowing more vibrant in that instance.

Eve smiled faintly, understanding in her eyes.

They had arrived in front of the mural of _'The Fabricated World,'_ the painting's rims appropriately disappearing in a flash of light before they both jumped in together, a momentary lapse in memory accompanying the travel back to reality, both faintly surprised to find the other holding their hand, blinking and flushing although Eve faintly recalled… she had been gazing at _'The Forgotten Portrait'_ years… and… her other hand came out from her pocket, blue petals falling on the floor and noticing the purple haired male's blue rose and blinked when they both came to a realization.

"Ah. We're back." They said almost simultaneously, though there was a faint curiosity in her eyes, her hand reaching out towards the rose but blinked, pulling Garry towards the area of where his painting should be, shocked to find that the painting was still there, though there was something different about it, the figure smiling in his sleep,

"Garry…" Eve said quietly as she stared at the painting whilst the other piped up,

"That's odd…" Garry muttered, his eyes trailing to the blue rose in his palms though perhaps he too understood. "So I was this painting for a while, Eve?" He said with a slight smile, wondering quietly as he stepped up to the portrait, wanting to test something out though was stopped when he heard a voice of another girl calling out Eve's name, blinking and stepping away, eyes first wide and panicking when he realized he was about to be caught touching one of the precious displays and turned towards the girl, Eve doing so as well.

There was recognition in the girl's eyes, her gaze travelling towards the painting though her view of it was blocked by the older male, smiling slightly as Eve led the girl away, deeming herself in charge of the excuses and explanations, whilst doing so, Eve's and Garry's gazes simultaneously directed towards the title of the piece now, more enlightened perhaps as they both gave their gratitude silently,

'_King of the Blue Labyrinth'_


	15. Epilogue: The Lament of the Blue Rose

**_The Forgotten Portrait:_**

**_ Epilogue: The Lament of the Blue Rose_**

_She loves me. She loves me not._

It all began with her—Eve—continually and almost fervently, dedicatedly coming in front of the portrait of himself each time she could do so, perhaps even safe to say most everyday…or well, more accurately perhaps, there should have been quotation marks on that word—'himself'—though he too did embody _'The Forgotten Portrait'_—embodied _him_ and perhaps all _he_ did not wish to admit or show to the innocent child who was perhaps braver than his own self, stronger though in her youth and innocence, could not help but want to protect. His fears, doubts, desperation, and all else… and born from a promise he could not keep plus strong emotions that should not have perhaps been there… And… though she had lost all memory of the said promise, perhaps for her own good to a point, it seemed that her heart remembered and he couldn't help but feel the desire to grant her what she seemed to wish.

Day after day after day… It grew stronger, stronger and stronger until in a sense, he finally caved, coming to a silent agreement of a bet with his nicer alter ego though it was actually mostly his doing, given that Garry was well... sleeping for all of eternity though he had an idea of what the man would have said if he actually could do anything… But no… He was the master of this world now.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

The lights flickered on and off as _she_ passed the painting of _'The Fabricated World,'_ enchanting her to come back into the gallery, luring her in with the use of her latent memories and curiosity.

Though, of course enticing her in did have its set of requirements that induced a short sleep and his memory lapse for until the point in which he saw the portrait showing her picking up her beautiful red rose, making him smile in a gentle manner though there was a hint of mischief in them, recalling how she had eluded his grasp once before when she was much younger, refusing to come with him. _Come back to play, little one?~_ Though, he knew he would have to get going so that the others in the gallery didn't do any permanent damage to his prize.

And with that in mind, he set off to find her, however ironic it was she would have stumbled to the room his portrait was in, and was in quite the situation to say the least. And, consequently, he had to get a little… violent before pulling her out of the room and into his company. And when it was ascertained she was fine, she had gone on to ask for his name, his eyes growing wide for a moment—perhaps a brief lapse, thinking of what exactly to tell her given what he was and decided to settle for pointing at himself and saying, 'Garry,' so that he technically did not lie, having deliberately excluded the words 'I am.'

The appearance was of her precious friend's and perhaps to a point, her love… The memories and the feelings too though there was a darker note about him. But needless to say, he planned to lead her out of here and come back with her—the bet between him and _him_—though, he had to make sure she did not stumble upon the other portrait so round about they went, given how twisted this gallery became.

_She loves me. She loves me not._

The other inhabitants were becoming increasingly annoying the more he and Eve walked about, some perhaps still holding loyalty to Mary to a point. And so, at certain points in time, he did have to use more of his abilities as new master of _'The Fabricated World'_ when she would not notice… that time she passed out for example, to make a safe place for her to sleep, the door entangled with a vine strewn with blue roses. It was now unfortunate though that one of the other paintings had gotten them separated and… not really having an option given she would suspect things to a point, he was left to look for something to break the damned thing whilst emphasizing she needed to wait here before leaving for the door, the right obviously leading to a place he would rather she not see.

Unfortunately, he had met a few 'setbacks'… though fighting them off was easy enough, their blood—or in this case, red paint—smearing part of his coat.. The other him would have been screaming…probably. He had to pause though when he felt her coming closer to _him_, a part of him mentally calling for her to turn back else _they_ wouldn't be able to pretend nothing was amiss. And, maybe, she would have… if not for the fact that it seemed something was preventing her from really turning back and regardless…

_Ah. Damnit._

He had to settle for destroying the one in his way without much anything else. And then, it had come to this. 'We both could have happily lived in this sweet fantasy ❤…'

He made her cry… it was odd that he should find some amusement and pleasure in it though perhaps, there were several things wrong with him enough to explain why he would actually do so. Though now, as they talked for the most part, her asking why if in the end, he was tricking her, had actually kept her company, him having to mention the gallery's rule—an exchange of existence—perhaps leaving her to interpret it in her own way though he was being a little mean, upset as he was that he lost the little bet with _him_.

Garry's existence in the outside world for Mary's. But that function had never been fulfilled. So, it had been his chance to get out with her in exchange for _him_. But, in the end, she wanted Garry, not him—however surprised he was when she held his wrist when he was about to exchange his own rose to grant her, her wish, in her gaze, the question of why he was doing it, understanding of the consequences shining in her crimson eyes except he only smirked… Because… in the end… despite the fact that he can be twisted, distorted by this gallery, all else, and whatnot, the fact remained that he was born from _him_ and what he wished was nothing more than her happiness, despite the methods he used to achieve that purpose… trying to keep her in the gallery when she was nine, then bringing her back in here…

_She loves me. __She l—_

'You need not worry about me' He said, placing his rose in Garry's palm and taking the withered one in symbolic exchange, turning towards her with an almost gentle smile, his form slowly withering away in a flurry of blue petals after a while, returning to '_The Forgotten Portrait_' and watching over the two as they made their way out.

'_That's odd…' 'Garry…' A voice echoed from within the depths of the darkness, the other in her company shrugging though fascinated as well_

_in the end though, they had to leave, though occasionally returned, perhaps out of habit now more than anything else._

_Tick tock, tick tock, how much time had passed?_

_The displays come and go and in the end, even Guertana's works were soon up for grabs, to be auctioned off_

'_I apologize, both of you, but the paintings will soon have to find new homes'_

_Ah, how sad. He wouldn't be able to see her anymore._

'_Garry…' silence... 'We'll do something about it, so don't worry Eve.'_

_What?... tick tock, tick tock…_

_Two sets of hands, one larger than the other, 'And…. Heave!... Whew… That took a bit of effort, huh?'_

_And a strange pull, drawing him in and causing him to open his eyes, his consciousness faintly_

_How strange… He could see her right in front of him, facing her with a smile._

_Slowly it dawned on him and smiled._

_Finally home._

* * *

A/N: Finally done! And, in case anyone was wondering, this fic was mostly inspired by the doujin, 'The Blue Labyrinth King.' I'm still waiting for the next releases... In any case, i realize there wasn't really much romance in this fic, despite the tag in retrospect and I kind of regret that. In any case, I'll be writing a sequel though I'm debating on whether to post it here.


End file.
